Chapter 1
Jevah shivered. Life in the cities under the Occupation had not been pleasant, but at least she had a chance to get a technical education and some skilled jobs in the city that helped to feed and clothe her aunt and led to further advancement. Standing in line to board the shuttle for the Terok Nor station, she wondered why she had bothered to get any computer training at all. It had, in many ways, been a good decision; she had some talent at the job and had advanced as far as a Bajoran could working in the Operations center of the city. But it had brought her to the attention of the Cardassian supervisors, who had added her name to a transfer list when the station requested more specialists. She wondered what it would be like, to live on the enclosed station, surrounded by the Cardassian occupiers, working in the proximity of the senior staff and the Prefect who governed the planet.
She desperately hoped that she would be in some area away from the central activity... in the waste management center, perhaps, or someplace where she could concentrate on work and stay out of the way. She had found that keeping a low profile was the best way to avoid drawing attention; she had been fortunate so far to come in for very little attention from the supervising soldiers. The catcalls and shoves on the streets as she traveled to and from work were a constant, but travelling with a small group of companions usually made her feel safer and deflected attention equally to all members of the group. Women walking alone were at risk for more-personalized-attention.
The rear section of the shuttle was cramped and uncomfortable; low-level soldiers and Bajorans being brought to the station jostled together, more than a few elbows and ribs connecting. Jevah caught a glance of the well-appointed front section; the seats were comfortably padded and spaced apart; the uniforms of the soldiers were crisp and newer, not slightly worn like those in the back. She caught a whiff of a hot drink she knew the Cardassians favored, and her stomach growled. She had been too long without food.
The ride to the station was not long. When they disembarked the shuttle, the Bajoran passengers were separated by occupation and directed to their new work stations. Most of the workers headed for the ore processing areas, these looked worn and dejected, if muscular; Jevah felt guilty for her feelings of relief that she was not among them. She was convinced she wouldn't live long in the steamy, gritty ore-processing environment.
She and two other workers, an older man and woman, were taken to the general operations part of the station and shown to the Cardassian supervisor; the other two workers were escorted away. She was escorted to the Life Support Center's monitoring room, a circular room of workstations set below a raised center area. The Cardassian overseer, a bulky man with an angry sneer on his face. fingered his weapon and nodded shortly in the direction of one of the workstations, where Bajoran workers hunched over consoles. One of the older workers glanced up and communicated with looks only that she was to approach.
In a low voice the woman explained the working of the consoles; Jevah would be monitoring the flow rates for the various chemicals and gasses that provided air, heat, and power to the station. (The ore-processing functions were separate and in a different center of operations.) Jevah thought it looked simple enough; she shadowed the operator (who had not given her name) for half the shift and then sat down in her place and began training her eyes to roam the monitors and displays, watching for discrepancies. She picked it up fairly quickly; the experienced operator occasionally flicked a finger toward a dial that she should watch and she logged the variances. One finally flashed outside the allowable limits; the supervisor was flagged. The Cardassian hovered over her menacingly, and Jevah slunk down in her seat while the operator explained the reading. One of the O2 sensors had detected a drop in the pressure in a specific conduit; the Cardassian finally agreed that it needed some attention and made a short call on his comunit, directing a worker to the appropriate area. He moved away, and the trainer told Jevah how long she should expect to see the variance in the reading before it would be fixed. Once that time limit had passed, they were to notify the supervisor again. It was a simple job, mind-numbing in its repetition, made interesting only by the occasional fluctuation of readings that had to be observed to see if they tripped some critical threshold of variance.
By the end of the shift, Jevah was sure she understood the console, the variations of the readings, and the procedures to be followed for variances. As the new shift workers came into the room, the replacement operators observed the console for a few minutes before slipping into the seats, and the newly-relieved workers filed singly past the Cardassian supervisor, who ignored them disdainfully. A guard escorted the group down the hallway a distance before anyone spoke; the older woman who had trained Jevah introduced herself as Binna and explained that the overseer, Charis, did not care to have the Bajorans conversing amongst themselves in his hearing. "So we stay quiet until we leave the area; that way we don't get more than the occasional black eye." Jevah shuddered. Reality on the station so far had not been as bad as she expected; the streets of Jalanda city had as many Cardassian soldiers as she had seen here. But the enclosed space, the dim lighting of the hallways, crowded as they were, gave her a sense of being stalked, of being a small prey animal crouched amongst the tall stalks of tsampa, hoping to avoid the gaze of the flying predators that circled overhead.
The indifferent or angry glances of the passing Cardassian soldiers and administrative staff were like blows to her spirit, and she felt her shoulders sagging and her steps slow. The guard delivered the group to a clearly-delineated section and through a mesh gate; Binna tugged at her elbow. "Come on," she whispered, "I want to get you to the dining hall and the barracks before it's too late." They circled around the wide ring and came to a large, shabby space filled with plain tables and benches, separated from the hallway by a wire-lined sliding fence. The replicators had a limited menu; they dispensed soup, cooked grain, and some mushy vegetables, and Jevah and Binna settled onto a bench at the end of a long row of tables. "There is a certain amount of mobility in this section," Binna said, taking on a lecturing tone, "but if you see soldiers in front of a door, don't approach it. Either keep walking or go back the way you came. We don't work near the Operations center, so mostly we can keep a low profile, but occasionally one of us gets moved into a position there, and that's a tougher path to walk. For now, let's eat, get you a bunk assigned, and find the facilities." The barracks was down the hall; it appeared that this entire level was set aside for the use of the workers (slaves, Jevah thought bitterly), with rooms full of bunk beds, others with latrines and showers, and one area where replacement clothing was replicated. A quota system was in place; new sets of the baggy, shapeless tunic and trousers were only available every ten days.
Jevah settled into "her" bunk. There was a small storage space at the foot for any personal items; she had brought nothing with her except toiletries. The mattress pad was thin but tolerable; she winced, thinking about her aged aunt Elga trying to sleep on that unforgiving surface. Blankets were not needed; the Cardassians kept the station warm enough for their own comfort, which most Bajorans found hot to the point of sweltering. After the newness of the day, sleep came quickly.'
Jevah settled into the routine of her new life on the station. The surroundings on this level were dull; the lift to the working level was utilitarian and plan. There was nothing to draw the eye, none of the occasional things that she could see on the planet to soothe her soul in the smallest bit. She found herself watching everything she passed, looking for a spot of color, of living plants, of anything but the hard metal and ceramic surfaces of the station, finding nothing appealing or enjoyable to her eyes.
The Bajoran dorm areas were unsegregated, and the echoing noise of the snoring workers kept her awake for many nights before she was able to rest comfortably in her own space. The lack of privacy soon became a non-issue; most of the workers were so worn down in spirit that they were unable to look at each other with anything more than a resigned sympathy. She occasionally heard noises at night that suggested some had found the energy for bed sports, but had no inclination for such herself.
The Cardassian soldiers and supervisors were still intimidating, not unlike the soldiers in the city, but the presence of the occupation governor in the station seemed to make them more attentive to detail, more inclined to pick over every anomaly and examine every shift change with suspicion. She had maintained a habit of sitting quietly at her console and monitoring the readings; so far, after several tendays of work, she had only had to signal the overseer twice. Each time he came up behind her, he had pressed a hard-edged hip against her back, his armor crowding her shoulders and pressing her head downward. The first time he ordered a workman to the site; the second time he merely leaned over her for several minutes until the display returned to normal.
After he stepped away, Jevah sighed quietly. She knew women and some men who had received attention from Cardassian overseers or soldiers; the attention was mostly unwelcome. Generally, the Cardassian got what they wanted, and the victim was attended to by friends, or, sometimes, buried quietly. She made quiet conversation with her neighbors when Charis stepped out of the room; when he was nearby she sat quietly at her station.
After Jevah had been at the station for a few months, she arrived with her shift-mates at the LSC to find the room unusually tense. Charis was standing stiffly at attention, his uniform creased and shiny. Several other Cardassian stood in the room with him; one was explaining the workings of the room to another, a tall, lean man who looked over the consoles indifferently. Jevah, uncertain of the protocols, stood with her group to the side near the doorway, waiting for a signal, any hint of a clue as to her expected behavior. The visiting Cardassians moved toward the door, and she fell aside even further, staying out of their way. They moved outward and down the hall, and Jevah turned toward her workstation, running into another Cardassian she had not seen. The collision with his hard armor pushed the air out of her lungs in a huff and staggered her. The lights seemed to darken; she leaned toward her console, and Binna came from behind her to grab her elbow and lead her toward the chair.
"Here," the soldier said. "What were you doing skulking back there?"
"Just trying to stay out of the way," Jevah muttered, gasping for breath.
"Get to your station," he growled.
Binna walked her to her station, and stayed while she transitioned onto shift. "What was that all about?" Jevah asked quietly.
"That tall man was the Prefect, Dukat. Quarterly inspection or something," Binna whispered. "And we have a new supervisor. That one you ran into, name is Skurs or something like that." Jevah glanced around, as she had not really gotten a look at the man, and saw him across the room, watching her. She turned back to her console quickly and began to scan the dials.
